


Getting His Wings

by redscudery



Series: Scudery's Saturday Night Fic Fest [11]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Anal Sex, Awesome Molly, Bottom!Molly, Crossdressing, Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Het, Oral Sex, Pegging, Sexual Roleplay, Spanking, Tiaras, bottom!Greg, fairy wings, of a sort, sort of, top!Greg, top!Molly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-20
Updated: 2014-04-21
Packaged: 2018-01-18 05:29:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,670
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1416832
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/redscudery/pseuds/redscudery
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Greg looks up at her then, half-expecting a laugh-after all, he must be a pretty incongruous picture: DI Lestrade, the second-most terrifying man in the division, nude except for fairy wings, a tiara, and his wife’s exceptionally sheer knickers.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Nice Tiara

**Author's Note:**

  * For [QuickLikeLight](https://archiveofourown.org/users/QuickLikeLight/gifts).



> Thanks to ellioop for the beta and to the Antidiogenes Club for the cheering.

It’s not that Greg is embarrassed about the tiara.

When Molly comes in, he is wearing one, and fairy wings to boot, but Elizabeth has insisted, and few people in their right minds contradict a three-year-old on nonessential matters.

“Mummy!” Elizabeth leaps up and runs to the Molly as soon as she hears the door click, and he follows, happy that his wife is back, happy that the day is almost over. He watches as his youngest daughter runs headlong into her mother’s legs, and yells “UP!” at full voice; he watches Molly smile as she picks Elizabeth up and kisses her face all over.

“Good day?” he asks, taking Molly’s purse and putting it on the side table.

“Exhausting. Interesting, but exhausting.”

“Sherlock again?”

“No, just a lot of paperwork. And I’m starving.”

“Beans on toast, I’m afraid, with fruit salad and cupcakes for after.”

“I knew I married you for a reason.” She kisses him. Even he can manage a roast chicken, though he’s not much of a cook, but Molly loves beans on toast.

“I’m a mind reader. Want to do her story? She’s ready for bed otherwise.”

“Yes,” she kisses him again, then turns to Elizabeth, “Go pick a story, sweet pea, while I take my coat off.”

The little girl runs off, tiny chestnut pigtail bouncing, and Molly slides her coat off, hangs it up. Greg kisses her again, first her lips, her cheek, then her neck. She smells of orange blossoms and warm female; he runs his hands around her waist.

“I missed you.”

“I’ve been gone eight hours.”

“I still missed you.” His hands slide down to her arse. He loves her body so much, but her arse, rounded and full, holds a special place in his heart.

She wriggles against him, kisses him again, her mouth open and welcoming. When Elizabeth comes running back into the room, she stops and steps away, leaving him half-hard and smiling.

“Storytime.”

He watches her go.

 

When Elizabeth is sleeping, Molly comes into the lounge and collapses. Greg gets up to bring her a tray, and she laughs up at him. He’s taken off the tiara but the wings still hang behind him, forgotten.

“Hey now. I’m a doting father!”

“You’re a fairy godmother.”

“Same thing, right?”

“Same thing.” He watches her eat; she’s hungry, and the food goes fast. As he watches, she licks the last of the sauce from her fork, then picks up the cupcake and licks the icing.

“Nice tongue, Molls.”

“Thanks!” She licks it again, deliberately this time, looking him in the eyes.

“Mmmm. When is it my turn?”

She puts the cake down and kisses him, her lips sugary. He pulls her close and their kiss deepens, a satisfying meshing of mouths and tongue. He reaches for the buttons of her blouse, tracing the line of her collarbone, but she takes his hand in hers and breaks the kiss.

“I desperately need a shower. Why don’t you,” and she makes that faux-innocent face he loves so much, “get ready for bed and we’ll have some fun?”

“Right. Any preferences?” He waggles his eyebrows.

“Those wings are kind of sexy.” She tosses this over her shoulder as she leaves the room. He watches her disappear behind the door of the bedroom, waiting a beat before he looks away. Sure enough, within a minute, her shirt comes flying out, followed by her bra, trousers, and, finally, knickers.

God bless Molly’s predictability.

 

Greg gets up when he hears the shower start. He kicks Molly’s clothes to one side and starts pulling off his own. Once he’s down to pants, he stops. The fairy wings are sexy, are they? He grins to himself.

When Molly steps out of the bathroom, wrapped in a robe, hair flushed and loose, he’s ready.

“Ta da!”

“Greg!” she squeaks, half in laughter and half in surprise.

“Any wishes I can grant for you?” He waves the wand, trying to keep a straight face, but it’s too much. He blames the tiara.

“Yes.” She steps towards him, “Wear the knickers for me.”

“Oh?”

“Here.” She rummages in her bureau and pulls out a pair of sheer pink knickers.

_Those_ knickers. The last time that she wore them, he’d made her come with them on, perched on the vanity in the bathroom. His cock twitches as he remembers her, head thrown back, the beautiful arch of her body, the rub of her thighs against his cheeks.

He removes his boxer briefs and pulls the knickers on.

“Anything else?” he asks, once he’s managed to pull them over his erection. He looks up at her then, half-expecting a laugh-after all, he must be a pretty incongruous picture: DI Lestrade, the second-most terrifying man in the division (Sherlock Holmes, he admits to himself, is probably more terrifying) nude except for fairy wings, a tiara, and his wife’s exceptionally sheer knickers.

All he sees, though, is lust in her eyes.

“Oh, yes,” she says, stepping forward to kiss him. Her body is warm and damp and as the full length of it presses against him the blood surges to his cock, the knickers snug and silky against his growing erection. Her mouth is hot and sweet with toothpaste; he kisses her harder, trying to erase the mint and get to the flavour that’s her, just her, underneath.

She runs her hands around his waist, pulling him in, and he revels in the feeling of her breasts against his chest. Her nipples are insistent, her arse full and lavish. He pushes against her belly, the sleek fabric of the knickers coming between them, before running his hands up her body to her breasts. He breaks the kiss and bends, without ceremony, to take each nipple in his mouth. Her flesh is sweet and soft under his tongue, and he savours each shiver she makes under his touch.

“Greg,” she says, and he draws back, hands on the dent of her waist.

“Tell me what you want,” he says.

“I want to touch you,” she answers.

He stands back for a minute, wanting to ascertain just what it is she’s asking for.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> From here, the ending is your choice.
> 
> Do you want to see sexy give-and-take? Go to Chapter 2.  
> Do you want to see Molly top Greg into the ground? Go to Chapter 3.


	2. Granting Wishes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When she stops, he can look again. She has an impish smile on her face that must, he supposes, be due to the fairy outfit.  
> “Like what you see, then?”  
> “I do,” she says cheekily.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I swear this was going to just be a fluffy little one-shot. Now it's so many words of plain ol' porn. Sorry? I think?

Molly steps back. Her face as she contemplates him is both angelic and erotic, and, not for the first time, he is suffused with a desire to bend down before her and worship. 

Instead, she does it, sinking to her knees in front of him. She puts her hands on his thighs, caressing the lean muscle. He tilts his head back and closes his eyes; he knows that once she starts he will be lost. 

She winds her hands around his knees and then up the backs of his legs, stopping at the sensitive crease between thigh and buttock. She settles herself more comfortably on her heels and then, very deliberately, runs her tongue along his erection. The wetness of her mouth barely reaches his skin, but the soft heat is enough to make him need a steadying breath. 

When she does it again, he grabs hold of the edge of the bed. She pulls at the waistband of the knickers and licks the tip of his cock with small, precise strokes, teasing, until he starts to drip. Then, she slips her hand inside and touches him more firmly, pulling him out and without any more ado, taking the swollen glans into her mouth and sucking and stroking at the same time. He looks down; the sight of her taking him into her mouth is almost his undoing, especially with the press of the elastic at the base of his cock. He looks up and lets the pleasure wash over him.

When she stops, he can look again. She has an impish smile on her face that must, he supposes, be due to the fairy outfit.

“Like what you see, then?”

“I do,” she says cheekily. She licks his cock again before sitting back on her heels and smacking him with the wand on his thighs. It stings, but he doesn’t dislike it.

“Hmmm. That has possibilities, you know.” 

“Shall I bend over?” He’s only half joking, but her grin tells him that he’s struck a nerve. He kneels at the side of the bed and pushes his arse into the air; she whacks him once, twice. He makes an “oh!” of surprise the first time, but the second and third time she hits him right at the join of arse and thigh, and that is exciting.

“D’you like that?” she asks, a bit diffidently. 

“I do, I think,” he says, standing up. He steps forward and takes her into his arms again, pressing his cock against her belly and kissing her deeply. He takes advantage of her relaxing into the kiss to remove the want from her hand; then, picking her up, he deposits her on the bed. 

“The question is,” he says, “do YOU like it?” He lifts her legs up in the air and rains little blows on the back of her thighs and the bare curves of her buttocks. She laughs, wriggling a little; he watches the roll of her hips and keeps spanking until her breath catches and her cheeks (both sets) are pink. 

“Hmmm. And now what?”

“Kiss me,” she says, putting her feet on the bed and holding out her arms; her hair is spread out on the pillow and she is utterly irresistible.

“Your wish is granted,” he answers, and climbs on to the bed, kneeling between her bent legs. He bends forward to kiss her, but he just brushes her lips. She tilts her face for more but he’s already at her collarbones, her breasts, her ribs, and her belly. He stops then, his chin just above the soft curls , and waits for her to make that impatient face she makes when she wants him. 

“I thought you were granting my wish.” There it is, that little frown.

“Oh, I am.” He kisses her thighs, a little bite here and there, nuzzling just close enough to tease.

“Greg!” she exclaims, opening her legs a little more.

“Yes, darling?” He looks up again, eyes wide. 

“GREG!” 

He grins, then, and instead of dropping a light kiss just out of range as she’s probably expecting, he licks a broad sweep over the whole of her sex, from bottom to top. 

“Oh!”

Her reaction is so rewarding he does it again and again, until her breathing has accelerated and he can taste her wetness mingling with his saliva. He slows down then, flicking his tongue across her clitoris gently until she’s humming with pleasure, her hips rocking gently towards him. He puts the tip of his finger inside her, waits for her to moan, softly, before he slips it in and up. He takes her clitoris into his mouth now, sucking gently while his fingers slide in and out, and it’s not much longer before she rocks her hips against him, hard, and comes, gasping his name. He slows his movements, his slick fingers drawing some final shudders from her, then lifts himself onto his knees.

Her eyes are dark with desire and she pulls him towards her without a word. He pulls off the knickers, taking his time. He could watch her watch him do this for days, but she tugs at him, demanding, so he moves up her body and is inside her, her wetness surrounding him, and she bites his lip and sighs into his mouth. They move together, and his orgasm is already building. 

Then she starts to laugh.

“What?” He rears back a bit.

“It’s good, it’s good, but… your wings!”

“Oh!” he says, “I see.” He pulls out of her, and she huffs, partly with laughter and partly with disappointment.

That is, until he pulls at her waist and knees, turning her over.

“On your knees, then,” he growls, “and you won’t see them.”

A shiver goes down her back, and she settles herself on all fours, legs open. She’s a beautiful sight like this, full bottom, glistening sex, and Greg steadies himself before he slides his cock along her clitoris before entering her. She bucks in surprise as he moves as slowly as he can stand, and soon she’s begging him. He puts just the head of his cock inside her and she hums again; he’s so sensitive he could swear he feels it. He takes his time, though, sliding in inch by inch, savouring her quivering beneath him. Once he’s all the way in, he runs his hands down her back, cups her arse, then holds her hips. 

The first full stroke is heavenly- for both of them, he knows, because Molly makes a high, keening sound. He tries to keep a slow, tantalizing beat, and for a minute, they’re suspended in time, their harsh breathing and the slick noise of their thrusts the only sound in the room. However, as he picks up speed, she’s slowly going to pieces beneath him, tight and wet and trembling, and as she comes again, noisily, he does too, pulling her back towards him hard as she convulses around him. 

When the last tremors have passed, he falls to the side, pulling her with him so he can stay inside. The tiara has long since fallen off, but one wing bends as they land on the bed.

“So?” he murmurs into her warm neck, “Wish granted?”

“Wish granted,” she answers sleepily.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please note: this version of the story actually ends here; Chapter 3 is an alternate ending in which there are sex toys and Top!Molly, so click through at your own risk!


	3. No Angel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “On your knees.” He sinks to the ground, the sound of her voice, unhurried and firm, compelling him.  
> “Turn around and lean over the table. No, a little higher.”  
> The table hits him at the base of his cock and he groans. Molly suddenly feels very tall behind him, too, even as she bends to pick up the wand he’s dropped.   
> “That,” she says, and he has to hold very still to hear her, “is a lovely arse you have, Gregory Lestrade.”  
> He knows better than to answer her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the second possible ending for Getting His Wings, so if you've come here from Chapter 1, "Nice Tiara" for Top!Molly, you're in the right place.

“Get the tea table,” she says, and he does, wondering just what it is she’s planning. When Greg comes back into the room with the table, Molly hasn’t moved; she’s just standing there, calm, waiting for him. A jolt runs through him; the day she really learned how to stand her ground was a wonderful day, he thinks. 

“On your knees.” He sinks to the ground, the sound of her voice, unhurried and firm, compelling him.

“Turn around and lean over the table. No, a little higher.”

The table hits him at the base of his cock and he groans. Molly suddenly feels very tall behind him, too, even as she bends to pick up the wand he’s dropped. 

“That,” she says, and he has to hold very still to hear her, “is a lovely arse you have, Gregory Lestrade.”

He knows better than to answer her.

His reward comes whistling through the air; the back of the princess wand hits him at the bottom swell of his arse, and he bucks into it.

“No.” she says, and he leans his weight on his forearms and holds himself still as best he can. A rain of blows begins, then, and he breathes into them, letting the sting spark pleasure down his nerve endings. 

When she finally stops, he’s indecently hard and there’s a wet spot on the knickers. He’s rutting against the table; at least, he is until Molly catches him.

“No, not yet, Greg. Just wait.” She runs one finger from the nape of his neck to the cleft of his arse. He pushes up towards her, asking, and she licks her finger and continues her trajectory. The waistband of the knickers pulls against his cock and belly as her hand works underneath, and then the damp tip of her finger is on his his arsehole, light, not enough pressure.

She pulls away and he groans.

“Stay there.” Molly’s voice is stern, now, and he can hear her standing up and walking towards the closet. There’s a noise of metal on metal, and he knows, with another, almost unbearable pulse of heat to his cock, that she’s unlocking the box of toys. 

He wants desperately to look around, but doesn’t dare, instead setting his forehead on the cool wood and just being. The sting on his arse and thighs is a delicious contrast to the hot ache of desire, and he holds himself in balance between them. 

He hears a snap and a click, then a dull thud of something on the floor. 

“Blast!” Molly exclaims. 

“Ok?”

“You hush,” she says. Another minute and she’s behind him, hands on his waist, then on his hips. He knows now, what she’s going to do and he arches back. Sure enough, there's the brush of the dildo against his body. He opens his legs a bit, rocking back in anticipation, but suddenly, instead of the solid hardness he expects to feel between his thighs, there’s a cold splash on his back. Molly laughs when he jumps, but she keeps squeezing, and soon the lube has soaked through the knickers and made a slick trail down to his arse. He squirms, willing Molly to slide the damn things off and have him naked. 

She doesn’t, though. What she does is push the head of the dildo against his arsehole through the fabric. The pressure still isn’t enough, but it’s more, and he pushes back against it. She takes pity on him for a moment, reaching around to take him in hand and stroke him once, twice, three times. He bucks back and forth from pleasure to pleasure until she lets go of him and grasps his hips once again to keep him from pushing against the table with his cock, now slick and free.

She waits until he’s perfectly still to start working the knickers off his body, going as slowly as possible to maximise the drag of the damp fabric across the sensitive spanked area. 

“Molly…” he begs, then, when they’re finally down and her knees are between his. 

“Yes?” she answers, drawing it out. 

“Please?” He’s already a wreck.

“Of course,” she says, and slides one slow finger inside him. He pushes back, ready and wanting, and it isn’t long before she’s got two fingers, slick with fresh lube, then three. She’s letting him rub himself against the table now, with just a little leftover lubricant and the precome that’s dripping from him. His balls are drawn up against his body, and his breathing is rough. When she puts the head of the false cock she’s wearing to his open hole, it’s almost a relief, though it’s bigger than her fingers by a significant amount. She turns on the little vibrator that goes with the harness.

“Take it now, Greg,” she says, and as she sinks into him, slowly, she lets out a little cry. Greg opens for her, rocking back on to her and helping her with the rhythm, until she’s all the way in and he can feel the buzz from the vibrator against his arse.

“Good?” she sighs, and he nods. She draws out again, then in, just a tease, and back out. Greg arches his back, grips the table edge; she slides back in this time, all the way. Once they’ve established a rhythm, Molly leading, Greg following, Molly reaches around again. Greg lifts his hips and her fingers close around him. Her thumb, cool with lube, runs over the swollen head of his cock, and he gasps. Encouraged, she angles her hips a little more forward and thrusts more deeply. 

The tiara clatters to the floor and Greg sees stars. The head of the dildo is hitting his prostate at each movement now, and her hand is pulling him off expertly. She’s making soft, urgent sounds behind him and her thighs are trembling between his; she can’t be far off, he thinks, and he pushes his arse against her to increase the friction. Her next cry is louder, and the push that goes with it harder. She grasps the base of his cock almost reflexively and it wrings a moan out of him; her rhythm falters when she hears it. There’s a long moment when she’s suddenly still, then a long loud “Oh” and a wild jerking of her hips as she comes. 

Greg rides it out, pushing himself into her tight grip. He’s close, but he holds back, enjoying the feeling of being open to her. When she slows her strokes and caches her breath, he lifts up on to his elbows and twists back, wanting a glimpse of her. 

“No, you’re not finished,” she says, as she puts her hand on middle of his back, grabs his wings, and pulls, as if on horse’s reins. The elastic biting into his arms almost overloads his nerves; when she loosens her grip on his cock he’s both grateful and disappointed. 

“What do you want, Greg?” she asks, her voice low and satisfied. That alone is almost enough to tip him over the edge, but he wills himself to wait.

“I want to come, please. Please.” 

“Like this?” and oh, miraculous, her hand is on him, tightly, and she’s all the way inside. He’s pinned between the dildo and the table, arms immobilized. Two strokes and he’s there, his orgasm sweeps up and crashes over him hard; his vision goes black for a minute and he falls forward, spurting out thick streams of semen between his belly and the table. 

He’s still panting and a bit disoriented when she pulls one hand out from underneath his body and lets go of the wings with the other. She rubs both up the muscles of his back before she pulls out of him, carefully. 

“Okay, love?” she asks, coming around to face him.

“Mmmm…” he still can’t articulate, but she reads him correctly and helps him to his feet, pulling off the wings and letting them fall to the floor. 

“Lie down, then.” She pushes him towards the bed and he sinks gratefully onto the worn, comfortable sheets. 

“Mmmm…” he repeats, and it earns him a laugh from the bathroom. A warm wet flannel comes flying out and hits the bedside lamp. He grabs quickly at it before things topple to the floor and cleans up as she comes padding out, skin golden in the lamplight, to lock the clean toys away. 

“Love you,” he says, as she settles into bed beside him.

“Love you too, princess,” she says, as he turns out the light and pulls her close.


End file.
